Skip to main content

listen and you will hear

It's been a long week.  The car crash on Saturday put me back a bit.  Going to the same ER my son was in challenged me emotionally, certainly more than the physical pain of the impact. I laid on the stretcher and cried from pain, cried from fear, cried from the wretched memories that washed over my mind.  In my hand I held a small container of Wyatt's ashes that I always keep with me.  It somehow brought me some peace, some comfort,as if he was with me in this place of our most wretched memories, of greatest heartache. Holding his ashes was my only solace...how strange, how sad.

When I was at work later that week, a friend called me and said she had something for me.  She came to my office, we sat together and she shared with me that this strong voice had been telling her that she needed to give something to me.  She of course prefaced this with "don't think I'm crazy but..." Then she opened her hand and there lay a little white dove it's wings stretched in flight.  I couldn't believe my eyes.  "Does it mean something?" she asked. Oh yes, it does mean something I began to cry.  You see, I associate doves with Wyatt.  The moon and doves are my signs that Wyatt is still here, that he is in my life, following me, guiding me through life. I shared with her the story of how, after Wyatt died, I found a small crumpled piece of paper where he had written a quote and "holy spirit dove" as the picture to go with it. Wyatt's  friend had this quote and the dove tattooed on his back after Wyatt's death.  His former girlfriend had the dove tattooed on her back. I have pondered a tattoo, a dove, to remember my son. I wear a charm engraved with a dove. I could not begin to share how much this little white dove meant to me, but even more amazing, even more wonderful, the greatest gift of all...was that my friend did not close her mind to the voice, but instead kept an open heart as he spoke to her.  It was if he knew who could or would be his messenger to tell me that he is ok, he is free. She knew she had to give me the dove and didn't let fear stop her from following the voice and sharing the message. How blessed I am.

Thank you son.  Thank you friend.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Shrines

People have amassed shrines for years.   In Prague there is a wall dedicated to John Lennon; flowers and photos adorn the gates of Princess Diana’s home in London; an eternal flame shines for the unknown soldier; Shinto shrines celebrate wind, rain, mountains, trees and rivers; we bury our dead and mark the grave with a headstone….we want a marker of those things valuable and important to us.   That is how we feel about our dead children; we don’t want our children to be forgotten, we must remember them, others must remember them.   My son's boots are my shrine to him.   His boots are the only thing left from his accident.   They sit there, worn but whole, and I see him, I think of him, I remember him, I love him.   His boots do that for me….they create an instant recall of him, his person, his character, his life. Don’t tell me to put the boots away, don’t tell me that is it unhealthy to hold on to things that recall his memory…it is...
Post a Comment
Read more

Hunger

There is a vast void in my heart right now; just emptiness.  I can't seem to collect my thoughts or make sense of much of anything.  I don't have any desires, no wishes, no hopes, just a body devoid of life.  It's like when you open the refrigerator and it's full of food and there is nothing in there you want to eat, so you shut the door and walk away yearning for something to satiate your hunger.  I'm hungry and I know there is plenty of food out there to ease my hunger, but I don't want any of it. Yes, at times I can laugh and smile at things in life and I believe it is essential to embrace this life for what it is....embrace those you love, laugh with those who entertain you, cry with those who need comfort, and dance with those who celebrate. It hurts to embrace it, but it also comforts, it is the ultimate paradox.  I receive comfort from helping others who are experiencing pain or grief, there is something palatable about being able to empathyze...
Post a Comment
Read more

Looking at New Grief

  I looked new grief in the face today. I hurt. I saw the pain, the hopelessness, the deep sorrow of grieving a child. His eyes were tired, and then he laid his head down on the mailbox that stood between us, my neighbor and me. The fatigue of grieving covered his face and his body was bent with the heaviness of it all. This is his second loss, the twin to the son he lost thirty years ago. This one comes with trapping and thoughts unlike the first. It’s hit him hard. There are no more children, his wife is dead. He’s alone. He’s lonely. He’s sad. I ache for him. I want to make it all better for him, but I know I can’t, this is his journey. He says I’m strong. He sees me breathing, walking, he believes me to be strong. I share that my times of wailing and crying are done in private, and it hurts so badly to open your heart and allow the sorrow to be, to know the absence, to acknowledge the death, to understand all that was lost and to have it seared into the soul and vanq...
Post a Comment
Read more